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2011-01-14 - Alien Invasion? - Space Shields 4 Us
A padded, winter black coat is zipped up for Ted, and he wears black leather gloves that appear worn to keep his hands warm. Don't ask, but sure...he isn't afraid to wear long johns for extra warmth! He doesn't have fur beneath his clothes like Wilde! After all, it appears the two have been out for a little while. Ted's breath comes out in puffs of clouds from his mouth and he tosses a football at Wilde, "Catch it in your palm, and remember, twist your wrist when you toss it back!" At first, it looks like father and son just playing this Friday lunch time in the park. It's cold, but they of course needed space for football, and don't seem to mind the spots of snow on the ground. Though upon closer inspect...that child's face looks very furry! Maybe he has that rare gene like that Mexico family that makes all the family look like big foots! After all, the kid is wearing a skull cap to cover his horns right now. Still, it's one odd sight to see in Central Park! Of course, due to the fact that most of Wilde's life has been spent in relative isolation... he has to struggle to keep him focused on game. He's still not adapting as quickly as Ted likely hoped to freedom and choice. And there's still some struggle with basic manners and behavior. Finding gloves and boats that fit hoovelike toes and three-fingered plus thumb hands isn't easy, so at the moment he's wearing the armored boots and mittenlike gloves from his full armor. Beneath your typical snowsuit and coat that most kids get stuck in. It's basically Wildebeest as South Park's Kenny... more or less. Naturally the armorlike mittens don't make catching the ball that easy and are soon abandoned in the snow. "Can't we just do something else?" He offers frustrated. "It's good for fine muscle control, as well as hand-and-eye corrdination." Ted pulls a baseball from a coat pocket, "We can try this one...but it takes practice. I had a mentor when I learned this stuff. And being able to handle sports does help with wrestling." Oooh, bribery right there folks! "Keep trying bare handed kid. You aren't getting cold, right?" Just checking, Ted worries about the child, no matter how rebellious the brat is. Wilde just grumbles a bit at Ted, at times easily frustrated with lessons like this. Of course, Ted knows that better than anyone. So often it's a struggle or just comes down to straight manipulation or bribery. "How?" He asks, waiting for you to throw the ball his way. "Throwing baseballs at their head?" He asks, though while getting frustrated he hasn't given up yet. "If I say I am, can we stop?" Not far off, William arrives in the park. He's dressed in his usual black suit and topcoat, though with gloves and a thick scarf as well. He sticks to the cleared paths, avoiding the deeper snow, and finds a bench -- which he sweeps clear of snow with a few brushes of his hand -- where he sets down his briefcase, opens it, and begins setting up some kind of vaguely technological-looking apparatus. He seems oblivious to the father-son game of ball, as well as whatever difficulties might be arising in the course of it. "No, by developing quicker reaction times from improved hand-and-eye corridination. Also, being more aware of distance and control." Grant tosses you the baseball, "Catch. And no, because I know you would be lying. You shouldn't lie Wilde. It will cause me not to trust you." They likely should be situated a little differently...being that Ted's back is a little toward William. Danger, danger Will Robinson! Wilde just looks crosseyed at Ted, as most of what he's telling him doesn't mean much. He just shrugs and naturally misses the ball, but goes chasing after it through the snow. "Okay...." He offers, unsure of everything that Ted has to say. As for lying, get used to it. It's typical kid behavior, and Wilde is quite a bit less mature than most kids his age. Wilde scoops up the ball and turns, and throws the ball back. As usual he misjudges his super strength and it goes well over Ted's head. Danger Danger Will Robinson, indeed. The ball hurtles through the air, thrown by one particularly willful (and particularly strong) child, furry or otherwise. However, just as the ball arcs perfectly toward the case of sensitive equipment, William raises one hand and deftly plucks the ball from the air, not even fully turning toward it. He finishes making some settings with his free hand, then he turns to face the direction of Ted and Wilde. He holds up the ball and calls over, "Lose something?" "Control Wilde, control!" Ted's scolding is firm as he looks behind him to chase after the ball, and then..., "Watch out!" Meaning to the man on the bench that he did not particularly notice come into the area...he should have been paying more attention. Talk about listening to watch you preach! But just as he is yelling, you have caught it, and Ted is relieved. "My apologizes," he says in a respectful tone as he jogs on over. He holds a hand out for the ball, "Good catch." He smiles slightly, "We will move a bit so you aren't an accidentally target." Grant's voice is on the rough side but respectful right now, and he has a local accent...may recognize it as from Hobb's Bay area. Wildebeest just mutters a bit at Ted as he gets scolded for throwing the ball so hard. Wilde winces as the ball seems about ready to hit the black-suited man or his device, but thankfully it ends up caught. Wilde rubs his right arm a bit and slowly approaches as well. Maybe he can take advantage of the stranger to get out of anymore sports for right now. Wilde lean over the back of the bench to eyeball whatever Will is working on. "Whatcha doing?" He asks... ignoring the question about the ball. Yeah, maybe then it'll go away. William readily hands the ball over to Ted, offering a small but polite smile. "Accidents happen," he concedes, then nods at Ted's plan to move. "I'm just doing a bit of surveying. I shouldn't be long." Then, as Wilde shows an interest, William hesitates a moment, raising one eyebrow. Perhaps he's unused to children, or maybe it's the fur. Either way, it takes him a moment before he answers, "Scientific observation. I'm ascertaining certain data about the city, and I needed a closer reading than I could get from far off. So, I'm here at street level, checking various critical points." "Oh, I'm really sure you rather hear an education lecture than play ball Wilde. I'm sure it will be good for you," Grant actually teases the boy. "It would serve you right for trying to dodge out of your training," humor reflects in his tone however. He knows Wilde wasn't particularly interested, just wanting to get out of more work. Schooling though....there is something in Grant's eyes...the boy does need more of it. Lessons from Cassie just aren't enough. Accidents happen. Should have that printed on a T-Shirt, given poor Ted's house since Wilde moved in. Of course, when Will explains what he's up to... Wilde gives him a look like he just started babbling nonsense. He even steps away from peering over the back of the bench. "C'mon, this is boring...." He offers to Ted, wanting to do something fun with his free time. Offering another reasonably polite smile, William nods again. "I'm certain there's nothing interesting in what I'm doing so far as most are concerned. In point of fact, it will only become useful to most when and if it becomes necessary to erect a defense grid over the city." He pauses, adjusting a setting on the computer screen. "However, if the city were ever to fall under orbital bombardment, as rumors currently suggest might happen, then establishing defenses to protect the population will be a necessity." "You should really listen to this Wilde, it will be good for you." Revenge! It's sweet! The baseball had ended up in Ted's coat pocket again, but he does say to Wilde, "Why don't you go fetch the football Wilde. Don't dawdle." There is a pause before Grant speaks to the strange man, "A defense grid from space bombardment. Do you believe the rumors then?" It is a serious question coming from Grant, he isn't mocking it. That may seem strange unto itself. Wilde offers an annoyed grump at Ted, crossing his arms across his chest and giving him the stink-eye. "Ain't we got plenty of heroes to deal with junk like that?" Wilde asks, thinking that heroic brawn will always trump technology. Wilde sighs when he's sent to recover the football, but it does spare him from all the talk about things from Space. William gives another slow nod. "Unfortunately, it is true that a craft of some sort is approaching the Earth," he confirms. "It's now close enough that my company's satellites have obtained confirmation of that, at least. As to its intentions, they're impossible to know for certain. In any case, however, it's best to be prepared." He offers another of his small smiles, not quite warm enough to be friendly nor quite winning enough to be entirely professional -- maybe even a touch grim. "Manhattan is, at least, defensible. I plan to contact the city government about contracting to set up such defensive measures." "Good marketing plan, but doesn't hurt. One city out of how many protected however?" Grant shakes his head, "It is not a final soultion by far, not even a decent half one." Grant appears to believe you, but doesn't confirm or deny it in anything concrete. He doesn't ask techno-questions such as, how you can predict the power of the blasts, how it can be defended, etc. That is more than a little beyond Grant. He isn't stupid, but he knows better than to ask questions when he knows he won't understand the answer. Yet, he does ask one, "What about...something more portable?" It is mostly curousity. But he then remembers his manners, "The name is Ted Grant," offering a hand toward William. "The one taking his time fetching the football is Wilde, my foster son." Easiest way to explain it. William's expression suggests that he might actually be pleased with Ted's question, the smile becoming a bit more natural-looking. At the introduction, he moves to shake hands -- his grip is firm, though likely not so much as Ted's is. "William Black. A pleasure." At the mention of Wilde, he glances after the boy. "Good of you to take him in. Family... is good to have." He brushes off the moment easily enough, though, returning to the previous topic with obvious interest. "Well, the ideal solution is a planetary defense grid, but that would take a good deal more preparation. For the moment, we are thinking more portably -- generators that can be set up at intervals to protect cities, rather than the full scale that we should honestly be considering." He grimaces faintly. "Sadly, world governments seem a bit too busy distrusting one another to think on that global a scale." Wilde seems to get distracted during the ball recovery and ends up playing with some other kids instead of coming back right away. Perhaps it's ADD, or maybe the kid just gets easily distracted. After all... life is a lot more interesting outside the Meta-Brawl, and at times it can be like an overload of things going on. Oh well, as long as he's not causing problems. Or beating up some kid's Dad. This actually draws a faint chuckle from William, though whether it's at Wilde or Ted's quaint expression is unclear. "I'll be happy to contact the Sentinels. I believe, unless I'm mistaken, that Tony Stark does a fair bit of contracting with them. I've always wanted to work with Mr. Stark -- he's the best in his field. Besides that, if I can help the Sentinels make the world safer, then I'll feel that I'm doing my part to help out in a potential crisis." He glances back to his computer. "It never hurts to improve one's karma, as they say." Ted makes sure to keep an eye on Wilde, shaking his head at the kid getting distracted. He expected it and doesn't overly mind, considering in a way he is talking 'business'. Wilde is still not mature enough to handle superheroing or the responsbility of it full-time. He doesn't even know if the kid can handle part-time. "Absolutely, Stark Industries provides most of the equipment for the Sentinels." Grant nods, "No, it never hurts," referring to the good karma. "What are the size and weight of the generators with the current estimates? And how many for what size area." These aren't too technological questions or babble for Grant to quickly grasp. These questions rather assist with basic tactics. "Currently," William answers, taking a palmtop unit from his briefcase and touching a few controls, "the units are small enough to be placed unobtrusively on an average building's rooftop, though they draw consierable power when active. If I construct micro-reactors for each unit, that will no longer be an issue, but that could as much as double production time. Of course, Mr. Stark may be able to help me refine the process or design. As for the area of coverage, each unit should safely protect an area of several city blocks. I anticipate that with twenty or so units we could cover all of Manhattan." He glances back up to Ted as he finishes. As to Wilde, William seems oblivious. A nod at that, "So not easily carried by one man." Unless that man is Superman. But again, there is still plenty of pressure to keep his existance a secret. Perhaps Wilde could carry one, but trusting the child not to drop it by accident after getting bored? Not so intelligent. "Perhaps Stark may have ideas to compact it further as well." Grant shakes his head. "Sorry about not being much help, science was never my strong point," he admits. Though it makes one wonder what Ted is planning for the thing if he wants it to be that 'portable'. "Generally, they're fairly portable, especially if fitted with anti-gravity floats. Smaller units could certainly also be devised," William offers, touching a few more controls and then checking a reading on the briefcase computer. "In fact, I have models small enough to wear on one's belt, though they'll only project a field large enough for a single person." He glances back to Ted. "What, might I ask, did you have in mind for a portable unit?" "Anti-gravity floats?" Iron Man's suit likely uses the tech, but does Grant even know it exists? Nope, no clue. "Not sure yet exactly. But if it has a high endurance rate....even if you could place it around a single person, would it affect interaction with things outside the field? I'm just wondering on possibilities...nothing is set in stone anyway." He smiles a bit at that. William inclines his head slightly to one side. "It would technically act as a buffer to the outside world, reducing tactile sensation and preventing actual contact. However, it would not stop the user from performing any normal task that I can immediately anticipate." He returns the smile, if faintly. "It never is -- set in stone, that is. Nothing is final until it's over. Even then, one cannot be too certain." "I suppose." Grant seems a little doubtful about that, but perhaps with tactics it is true. "Use of technology is not my strong point," he admits. "I'm a fighter. To me, the most effective is to either talk my way out of it, or punch my way out of it. Not tech my way out of it, I fear. Though I can admire that avenue in others." Chuckling faintly, William says, "It takes all sorts. Myself, the only particular combat training I have is mainly for exercise. I'm not especially a fighter. So, I too can appreciate varied talents and their differences." He taps the palmtop one more time, then replaces it in its slot within the briefcase. Grant nods at that, "Thank you for your time. I should be getting Wilde home though....still, I hope we can get another chance to meet." Ted sounds sincere in that rough voice of his. He isn't really the time to be nice for just the hell of it, he is too gruff for that. William reaches into his pocket and withdraws a card, offering it to Ted. "Feel free to contact me, then. I do like to cultivate positive professional relationships, such as with the Sentinels, and perhaps I can be of service at some point in the future when technology is at issue." The card is accepted and Grant nods respectfully. "Thank you. I'm in the phone book, Grant's Gym," he advises. He smiles a touch, then yells for Wilde, "We are leaving Wilde! Time to go home for lunch!" That gets the kid moving, the mentioning of food! Soon, after reminding Wilde of his gauntlets and the football, the two start the long walk back home to Hobb's Bay. Category:Logs Category:Alien Invasion?